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<title>To All The Ghosts I've Met Before by HogwartsToAlexandria</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469394">To All The Ghosts I've Met Before</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria'>HogwartsToAlexandria</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Gen, Murder, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:55:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Will struggles with the ghosts of past, present and future — they are all the same, only more numerous, and less and less real, yet louder the more time passes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jump Scare 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To All The Ghosts I've Met Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/gifts">SegaBarrett</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Heya dear! Hope this little fic is enjoyable!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The designs have morphed over the years. Vivid images have turned translucent. Vivid scenes have become more ephemeral. More like you could walk through them more likely than you could touch them. </p><p>Will used to be able to walk through entire homes, to project through entire minds, and come back, holding answers no other could have found nor sensed. He used to be able to get inside a killer's spirit and strength and weaknesses and dissect them enough that catching them was within reach. </p><p>He watches, icy slicing wind cutting through the fields and blowing his fringe of hair away from his glasses, as the world turns and his mind stops, screaming. He watches, dead silent, as the designs pile up, the dozens of them, intersecting until none of them are recognizable but for details Will is too exhausted to pick out. He searches, and cannot find. Peace. Out of hand, out of heart, out of this world of his that is no longer controlled. </p><p>Clocks are upside down and corpses are all that remains, except they're not solid anymore. They're not cast away with a simple blink nor a complicated therapy session either. They remain, as ghosts, that follow into Will's every step, that imprint on his every thought. </p><p>Ghosts, of a time that refuses to be past, and instead inhabits the same four walls Will does, sleep in the same sheets Will lays in, drink, the same mediocre soup his forever trembling frame can put together. Ghosts who have names. Names Will will never forget not has he ever wanted to — it was the point after all, wasn't it? To appease the dead by bringing them justice. It was <em> his </em> design, where all the other ones he ever contemplated were bloody, and horrific, his was to bring peace, to people who were not there nor would ever be again. </p><p>His design, slowly consuming him, every day more than the last, even as Will tries to find some quiet of his own in the company of as many dogs as will find him. His design, howling between his ears and filling his brain with splashes of red, and bursts of grandiose, macabre, pitiful murders. </p><p><em> His </em> design, killing <em> him </em>. </p>
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